


Burnt Flesh

by oliviathecf



Series: Kinktober 2019 [22]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Moon Knight (Comics)
Genre: Branding, Codependency, Crying, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Pain Kink, Scars, worshipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 17:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21140609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliviathecf/pseuds/oliviathecf
Summary: For Kinktober 2019. Day twenty-two.The permanency of his worship for his God.





	Burnt Flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Branding's pretty wicked. 
> 
> Enjoy!

There were a lot of things that his God demanded. Sacrifice, worship, blood, everything that Marc had no choice but to give Him. After all, he worshipped Khonshu in every way, the God who gave him life again, who gave him everything.

He couldn’t live with Khonshu, everything He demanded draining every bit of Marc. Everything he wanted in life, down the drain, sucking him dry. But, at the same time, Khonshu gave him purpose, pulled him away from a life that he couldn’t live, from Bushman and their crew of mercenaries. Khonshu gave him something to fight for, so he couldn’t live without him either.

A part of him knew that Khonshu needed him as well. Khonshu couldn’t exist in the world without him and he couldn’t exist without Khonshu, everything was balanced and exactly how it was meant to be.

He hated Khonshu and he loved Khonshu, and what a pain that was. Because he craved his God’s bony fingers on his skin as much as they repulsed him, and as much as his craving sickened him. Still, he leaned into that touch, mask pulled off of his face as he looked up at Khonshu.

“My son,” Khonshu murmured, stroking his face, “you know what you must do. What I’ve asked you to bring to me.”

All of his sacrifices, every life he took, every drop of blood he spilled. None of those requests had made him squirm quite like the most recent one.

It hadn’t been easy or cheap to acquire such an item, he actually had to order it off of some specialty store from the internet. He didn’t like the name of the store, “BDSMBaby’s Kink Emporium”, and just remembering it had a dusty pink blush spreading across his face. But it was the only place he could really find a custom branding iron.

It was in the shape of the moon, of course it was, and he placed it into his God’s skeletal fingers. Khonshu gripped it, staring down at it with his all-seeing blank sockets. He didn’t say anything but Marc could tell that he approved, his mind catching the sensation of his God’s pleasure in the situation.

Because this was permanent. He was giving himself over to Him entirely, branding himself as His. 

Marc undressed quickly, efficiently, baring himself to his God and the roaring fire behind Khonshu’s looming figure. He laid himself out on his cape, spreading his legs open to reveal the inside of his thigh and his half-hard cock. Khonshu placed the brand into the fire, turning back to Marc to gaze on him.

“Such a good pet.”

Marc could never tell what was real and what was fake with Khonshu. But the red hot iron in His hand, smoking in the air of his apartment, he knew that was real. Especially as Khonshu pressed it into his skin without any fanfare or warning, pushing the iron into him.

The first thing he heard was his skin searing, a sizzle that sounded so far from his ears. The second thing he heard was his own ear splitting scream, the pain hitting him all at once. Khonshu didn’t hold it against his thigh for very long but it felt like an eternity, a cold sweat breaking out all over his skin.

And then it was over, the brand being pulled away, and that almost hurt more than the pain of being burnt. The open wound exposed to the air, he squirmed and cried out, gripping his cloak tightly in his fist.

He didn’t realize he was crying until he brought a hand up to his face, wiping hot tears away from his cheeks. And he didn’t realize he was fully, entirely hard until Khonshu was brushing bone fingers over his erection, the heat almost worse than the brand.

Marc bucked up, it hurt to do so but he needed to be _touched_. He was as open and raw as the brand on the soft skin of his thigh, torn open and new for only a fraction of a second, a part of Khonshu’s motif just like the moon was. 

A part of _Khonshu_ like the moon and violence and blood, Khonshu needed him as Marc needed Him, and that had an ugly laugh tearing from his throat before he could stop it. 

Khonshu looked about as fond as a bird skull could look, starting to stroke him in His skeletal fist. Marc writhed up into his fist, moaning lowly in the same air that held his screams and the scent of his burning flesh. It was only fitting, he always got rewarded by his God when he complied, and the cooling crescent on his thigh was compliance.

It was the reminder he needed, he served Khonshu and he got rewarded by life and by pleasure. Marc twisted his cloak under his fists, moaning and sobbing as Khonshu jerked him slowly, almost teasingly, and he knew that he wasn’t going to last.

From the adrenaline and from the way Khonshu looked at him, like he was good. Like he had served him well, and like he was necessary. Everything that Marc so desired to hear from him, everything that Khonshu rarely said, it was all out on the table, in the brand on his thigh.

For a brief second, Marc wished that he could stay in the moment where the brand pushed against his skin for all eternity. The sweet, all consuming pain at Khonshu’s hand. Just the memory had him moaning and fucking Khonshu’s fist, the bone somehow now hurting him. It felt like a human fist in all the right ways, warm and smooth, like his own fist but better because it was Khonshu giving him that pleasure.

The pleasure that was building and building in the pit of his stomach, burning him from the inside out. Marc let out one more ragged pant, one more moan, and fucked up into his fist for the last time. And then he was shooting cum over his chest, Khonshu aiming away from the brand, a small mercy. 

Coming down from orgasm was almost the hardest part, all the adrenaline and pleasure melting away into the pain of being branded. But Khonshu was there for him, fingers stroking over and around the brand, soothing the raw pain. 

“I’m going to be a part of you forever, my son.” Khonshu said, sliding his boney thumb over the open wound.

And Marc couldn’t help but think that he didn’t need the brand for that to be true.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave some love (or hate) either here or on my various social media pages.
> 
> [ Fic Blog. ](https://fanfictionolivia.tumblr.com/)   
[ Twitter. ](https://twitter.com/fficolivia)
> 
> This is a part of Kinktober 2019. You can read all of the fics for the month, or you can pick and choose your favorites. Either way, stay tuned for a new kinky fic every day of October!


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